


Deicide

by jxpit



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood Loss, Gen, Gore, Hatred, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-12 07:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxpit/pseuds/jxpit
Summary: He wanted to kill an old god, but ended up being soft and scared. Forever will he curse himself for being so emotional and human like.





	1. Frustration

**Author's Note:**

> i like gore, guts and the sort :)  
> thanks for reading
> 
> EDITED: 27 January, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To kill an old god was the ultimate goal, to remove impurities and to have the people of this land worship themselves. He did not want that, and wanted to be their new deity, their new worship. A new god. Fear and hatred was his goal to control these people that want to remove him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like gore, guts and the sort :)  
> thanks for reading

War was imminent and perseverance was needed to continue forward. Nothing could conclude the the Uchiha's plans for the coup d'état. There was no reason to stop short this far into the plans, but it seemed like there were quite a few hiccups to groom out. One ideology after another was proposed, but they were several steps backwards and it was quite infuriating to complete perfectly; and there must be perfection. Madara did not want to risk his own life and perish for a poor assassination attempt. Frustration poured into him, a migraine already creeping up fast and pulsing just behind his eyes. His cheeks grew a rosy red color from all the stress and anger, of which both had been building up for weeks on end. He had not rested for more than a couple of hours every day; that is, if he remembered not to get too invested on his current project. Madara, honestly, has had to remind himself to take an hour nap on more than one occasion.

Dissatisfaction creeped steadily up his spine, coupled with the fury written all over his face whenever he found a new issue in his strategy. Nothing was perfect. Annoyance dragged it's disgusting nails across his back once more. It was quick to spill over, the enraged Uchiha slamming his hands onto the table and pushing the mess of papers to the floor. Madara childishly flung himself into his chair, nearly tilting himself backwards into the wall behind. His long hair was strewn across his face, unable to hide his shoulders shaking with rage. What was the point of continuing with this idea and not executing it with utmost precision? In order to continue with the assassination, precision was key to success. Knowing where Hashirama was going to be at all times was a horribly tedious process. One day he was home with that skank Mito, then the next he was with his troublesome brother Tobirama.

He ran a rough hand through his locks, shaking with unfathomable rage. Deep in his gut he was unsure that this would work in the long run. The whole plan boiled with nasty consequences. He did not want to impose death upon himself for inciting a revolution for overthrowing Hashirama. But, at the same time, as long as the great Madara Uchiha could graze the swine's eyeballs and permanently blind him it would be better than sex. Delicious. The thought put a crooked smile on his face and a hideous laugh bellowing out deep from his chest.

All laughter aside, there were more kinks to the plans he found after reading them yet another time. It made Madara infuriated, shaking with the sort of rage that seemingly no one can cease. The plans had to be perfection. Nothing could be sub-par. He himself was not below immaculate standards, as he was a god among flimsy, mortal men. His teeth grit with irrational irritation, he slammed his hands down onto the oak table and violently brushed away the papers. He breathed heavily, his shaking rage increasing tenfold as he sat back in his chair with a furious motion. At that moment, the mess of a man decided to scrap all the ideas that he had written down. He gathered each paper into a messy pile. Madara stomped towards the pot belly stove that was in his kitchen, sitting on his knees as he shoved papers into the oven

He grabbed the nearby tinderbox, narrowing his eyes with frustrating as he saw that there were no more matches. He did not want to expend chakra on such mundane work, though he knew he had to in order to keep the files out of the wrong hands. With an exasperated sigh, he brought his hands close to the pile and began to snap his fingers to try and start a spark. An aggravated snarl ripped from his chest, only to relax slightly as he noticed smoke forming.

Fire was a necessity in this world. It was the creator of life, able to bring both heavenly warmth and provide a beacon to guide someone home. The reddish orange glow was a soft comfort, and the smell was wonderful. It was one of the few things that was able to slowly wash away his fury, bringing the man huddled contentment. His head was propped on his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. Onyx eyes gazed at the flickering light, no longer caring if ashes burned them. He, for the first time today, was relaxed.

After a moment, the shinobi stood and grabbed the ornate kettle to fill with water. He rubbed his reddened and watery eyes, which stung horrible after looking away from the ashes. Madara ceased caring after a moment, shaking his head at the fruitless attempt to sooth his eyes.

Perhaps a cup of tea would completely sooth his angered soul...

Setting the kettle to boil, he resume his spot on the floor, lost in a trance. It was not long until there was an abrupt knock on the door, spooking the Uchiha and making him jump in his spot. His chakra spiked dangerously, shoulders once again vibrating with anger. He stood bitterly and stomped towards the door, attempting to compose himself. He opened it. His eyebrow twitched as he saw Hashirama, with Tobirama sulking behind him.

"May I help you?" Madara asked, head cocked to the side with fake interest. The last thing he wanted to see was these two idiots.

"Yes!" Madara physically cringed as the Senju beamed happily, "Do you not remember? We had arranged for a dinner together." Madara did not care. He glanced at the hand that was touching him. Why was he being touched? What mortal was insane enough to do so... "I am also very sorry... I dragged my brother along with me," his tone became strict. "Please, be peaceful."

Peaceful? There was no such word in the great Madara Uchiha's vast and eloquent vocabulary. Even if there was such word, it would definitely not be associated with Hashirama; the man was pathetic as is. Always annoyingly preaching about peace and equality as if it was something that could be gained quickly. He was dreadfully erroneous, as neither could be obtained by means of simple lobbying and begging. The correct and only way was a simply revolution: to purge and cleanse the land on which they stood. Rid the world of below par subhumans to rise in strength and power. Delicious, hell-raining power. The very thought aroused him delightfully, a sinister smile tugging at the corner of his lips

"Ah, yes. Terribly sorry, I have forgotten as it has been a particularly stressful day. I do not have anything cooking," he spoke in a monotonous tone, turning his back to the two. His devilish smirk flourished as he continued, "I will be right back. I have to collect something, snuff the fire out as well. Please, wait."

Madara was tempted to snag Hashirama by the throat in front of his brother, his nails digging into tanned flesh. Blood would gush down from his lips as Madara would break his trachea with ease. Then he'd toss the body to the side as if it was nothing, hands bathed in blood. Or perhaps gut the lifeless, useless body. Dismember each limb and tear the very sinew apart with his pent up aggression.

Nothing seemed more satisfying than to think of such gore. It was gorgeous. Delightful. A magnificent scene that he drooled over happily just about every night.

The smile dissipated instantaneously, his facial expression fading to only reveal a hint of annoyance in his eyes. He prided himself in his carefully cultured apathy, keeping it a hidden secret. Secrets are only expired trash if shown without a proper invitation.

Underneath all of this disgusting frustration and secret-keeping was an intensely jealous man. He harbored a rather gentle secret that he would never disclose to a soul. The simple truth of the information he concealed would destroy his ego and image. Loving another male was not different in this village and was not shunned. That was not the issue; the issue was that loving a married, committed man was intensely shunned. For that, he loathed Mito for taking what was his. If he could not have Hashirama, then no one else was allowed to have him. There was no point in watching numbly and living as a jealous mess watching those two play the picture perfect couple. The idea made Madara gag every time it crossed his mind.

After scooping up a few bills on the off chance that he was going pay, Madara went to the burning stove to snuff the flames out. He drew in a deep breath full of smoke, eyes closed as he eased his mind into relaxation. Quietly, he stalked back towards the front door and stood in front of the bickering brothers. Tobirama clocked the elder in the head once he realized that his mortal enemy was standing in front of them, ignoring the whimpering. Madara crossed his arms, giving the impression that he was not interested in this petty fight. He wanted to get this night over with. It was an embarrassment. He stepped out of his house and trailed behind Senju brothers.

The trek down the path was winding and dark. The route itself was made of dirt and definitely belonged off the path that most civilians will take. The road was lined with ancient trees whose roots uprooted the soft ground and whose leaves obscured a brilliantly colored sky. Dark Blues, reds, and hints of pink all blended together splendidly into a beautiful dusk. Hidden in the grass were blooming wildflowers that lined the path, peeking shyly from the grasses. The air was warm and wet with the impending doom of a torrential summer rainfall. Madara's hair began to frizz due to the thick humidity, causing him to hand comb his magnificent mane. Embarrassing enough, occasionally Hashirama would start to walk backwards and talk to him and would mention how prude he would about his own hair. If Tobirama was not glaring at him constantly, the Uchiha would have taken his fist the the elder's face a long while ago. Then he would add insult to injury and scold him for being so annoying. Instead, he kept his calm composure and ignored the irrelevant comments directed towards him.

What is a peasant to a god?

Madara snorted to himself as he watched the siblings bicker over seemingly frivolous ideas, pausing in his stride when they reached their destination. It was a small shop, not too crowded as it was getting late. The smell of spices and fire piqued his curiosity. Calmness washed over his body at the scent of burning wood, no longer so ridged around the Senju brothers. Opening the door, he allowed himself into the shop before the other two and relished in the warmth of the fireplace. His eyes closed, breathing in and giving himself a moment to relax and find his calm place. Serenity took its course as he took his boots off, placing them in the crate so that he did not track soil into the dining room. For a man with a ginormous ego, he did know how to respect small shops.

Silently, he stalked to the closest table by the fireplace, kneeling down on the mat and folding his hands on his lap. His gaze peered from the fire beside him and towards the bickering siblings. A mantra of 'Do not succumb to their stupidity, Madara. They are nothing to me. A hinder to my growth and ultimate goal' played in his head loudly. The words he thought to himself were encouraging and brought his mood back from sulking to a neutral scowl; a huge improvement from just minutes ago.

Tobirama was the second to sit down, staring with caution at the Uchiha. He was unsure why the other had agreed to come along, as at his own house he seemed flustered and rather rushed. But nonetheless, there was no reason to dwell in the past. For now, he was at dinner with his brother and this secluded mess of a house. Whatever Madara was at this point, the younger Senju was not finding satisfaction with him. He could not understand why Hashirama was doing political business with such a man without passion. There was no energy, warmth, or an agreeable personality that did not clash with everything that was said against him. He did nothing for improvement that was not for personal gain, and not one ounce of assistance would push the Uchiha to remotely become a team player. It did not make the younger Senju content, and it agitated him whenever someone merely mentioned Madara in his presence.

Power was an ideology meant to be spread equally among the people. The key to being happy is accepting yourself and allowing others to open the closed mind. To become a recluse and shut-out from the people that want progress is a toxic behavior; not only to themselves. In Madara's case, he was not only incredibly egotistical and despised any form of help, but he managed to exude a very poisonous personality whenever he deigned to speak. It was much more refreshing to speak to Hashirama, even if his brother could be a handful at times.

In the background, the overly optimistic elder was chatting away happily with the owners of the shop. He was quite the hit in this shop, a near daily customer. He loved to support the neighborhood shops. It was one of the few things that Madara could actually stand and enjoy about this man. Of course, other than those qualities he still was a dirty Senju.

His mind began to wander towards the fire that was next to him, ignoring the dangerous glare that Tobirama was sending his way. There was no use in starting a quarrel about pettiness during dinner, especially in public with his two political rivals. No use in expending energy just for things to become mess and quite troublesome. At this point he wished to excuse himself before it started to rain outside. He saw no use in sticking around as he was not in the mood to become enraged over politics. There was no reason to get so flustered over simple ideology, especially in public.

The Uchiha drew in a deep breath, watching as the flame flickered gently in front of him. It was warm and inviting. His eyes became half lidded, head propped up on his hand without a care for the other's gaze. The smell of the burning oak was an intoxicating relaxant, muscles no longer tense as he breathed in the ashes. The flame seemed to grow bigger with each breath, continuing to intrigue and fascinate the man. An impulsive streak began to creep up in his mind, clawing at at his shoulders and yearning him to shove his hand into the brilliant light. The smell of burning flesh permeated his daydreaming, causing his nostrils to flare slightly. For this moment alone, he wished that he could take his glove off of his hand and toss it to the side. Then he would stick his hand into the flames. Images of his hand crisping, charring up with skin sloughing off to bubble in the flame. He felt a sudden wash of calmness, unknowingly letting out a quiet hum.

There was a cough, ripping Madara from his thoughts temporarily. He glared at Tobirama, narrowing his eyes before scornfully looking away. Before the Senju could open his mouth and spout a tirade at his long-standing rival, Hashirama was sitting down with a smile as bright as the sun. Madara gave no attention towards the now bickering brothers, immediately annoyed by the chatter of politics.

Madara felt a tap on his shoulder, his eyes flickering towards the offending appendage before uttering a deep, "What."

"Oh! Nothing, seems that you were deep in thought..." Madara was used to the fake kindness the other gave him. He knew damn well that the gesture was meant to catch him off guard, "It has been a while, Madara-San. Let us catch up! How have you been? The Uchihas?

There was no reason to say anything meaningful, as it was none of the questioner's business. So he gave a vague answer.

"I am well, thank you. As for the clan? We are as well as ever, once again thank you," there was a brief pause, onyx eyes peeking through his bangs. He grasped his tea cup after pouring himself some, taking a sip. "I am assuming despite your... Current position, that you are well yourself?" There was an obvious hint of despise in his tone. He did not truly want to speak about this topic.

"Ah! Yes, it is magnificent watching over these lovely citizens and I..." Madara completely tuned out the other, eyes straying back towards the fire.

He stood, not bothering with uttering any goodbyes before stepping out of the way and towards the front door. He no longer wanted to waste his dignity on two morons that had nothing better to do then try and uncover his personal details. It was pathetic and a waste of time for both parties. He would rather not deal with anything. He was a god and they were two mortals meant to worship him, not that sunshine boy.

He quickly stuffed his feet into his boots and opened the door, taking a brief glance back as he heard his name called. He left.

Rain had started to pour from the heavens, drenching the man as he walked down the pathway. It cleansed his soul a little, letting his bubbling anger sooth once more in gentle waves. The man stood under a tree, wet hair matted on the top of his head and covering his eyes. He moved his hair out of the way as he looked up at the weeping sky, eyes half lidded in deep thought.

Conflicted thoughts began to flood his mind. A pulsating headache pounded from just behind his eyes, making him much more enraged. There was no valid reason for letting such a perfect opportunity slip away. He could have carried out his plan then and there. A soft hum of approval came from the back of his throat as he began to think about how he would murder Hashirama. All he could imagine was tearing the man's smooth, tanned skin and shaking his head back and forth until it snapped from the force. With enough anger and determination, perhaps even decapitate his nemesis in a great gout of blood. A kunai to his victim's throat would do the trick if his head did not come off clean. He would slice through muscles until he reached vulnerable trachea. Madara had a sick and passionate smile forming on his face from the thought of blood drenching his hands. Especially that which spurted from the jugular vein. He shivered, hands twitching before forming tight fists.

He needed to stop thinking about this new victim as someone he fancied. There was a job to do and thinking about relationships would not fit his standards anymore. Despite having a difficult time squashing the feelings that kept pitifully blooming, he gritted his teeth as he turned around on his heels to begin his trek back to the restaurant. He would spy on his new target there. He strode with confidence, head held high. His eyes were wicked, dark and clouded with spiteful rage. A sinister smile was still plastered upon his lips, chakra forming a dark aura around him. The sharingan formed as he neared the shop, once again making sure to flicker back to apathetic black eyes. He did not want anyone to notice his all consuming rage.

Madara paused at the front door, his hand lingering on the doorknob as if he was going to open it. He gazed through the darkened glass, his face turning neutral in case either Hashirama or Tobirama were to see. He could spot the siblings chatting together idly. Hashriama had taken his old spot at the table, leaning over occasionally while a drink sloshed around in his hand. Momentarily, he was overcome with a feeling of no longer wishing to be in the same vicinity of anyone. Even despite just thinking of murdering his former childhood friend. His reclusive nature began to creep back, suddenly rather wanting to go back to plot the Hokage's demise in his own home than impulsively going into a shop with a kunai tight in his grip. He felt a sickening, tight knot form in his stomach, unknowing where it came from.

He removed his hand from the doorknob, taking one more brief glance at the two before turning around and heading home. There was another involuntary pause at the fork in the road, his head hung low and eyes screwed shut. Quietly, he turned and walked towards the outskirts of the village. A walk would do him wonders and clear his disturbed mind of Hashirama. Perhaps it would also help him finalize a last few thoughts and get his mind on the right track. A visit to his brother might give him the chance he needed to have some deep thinking. It was either him and his one-track goal, or to have continuous, jealous feelings for a man that did not love him.

A sudden bloom of hot, red rage ripped through him. Before he knew it, trees were catching aflame as they smoldered and fell down to the soft earth. Steam formed as rain touched the hot flames, a crackle of thunder from the heat breaking the silence. Madara shook with unfathomable rage, breathing heavily through his teeth as he leaped into the trees to escape any eyes witnessing his meltdown.

He could not understand this emotion; he wished never to. Madara yearned to no longer be tied down to petty emotions. He was a god. Their new god.


	2. Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love breaking Madara :)  
> thanks for reading
> 
> EDITED: 27 January, 2019

The long trek through the forest was thankfully silent, giving the enraged man time to calm his nerves after spewing fire mere moments ago. His stomach was twisted into a fatigued knot, face pale and sallow. His eyes were gaunt as the lack of sleep finally started to catch up with him. He looked rather lifeless: fatigue and stress wore him down, shoulders tensing with every step he took. He was an honest mess, wishing that he was home asleep instead of sluggishly walking to his brother's home for support he may not even receive. Izuna was the only person that he knew, in all of this wretched land, that would listen to his issues and not relentlessly judge him for them. It was a genuine relief, a breath of fresh air despite their competitive nature towards one another. He was thankful their mutual hatred for the Senju siblings tied them together with chains of vengeful rage.

His speed slowed to a lethargic crawl as he trudged along, boots sticking in the mud with each hard fought step. Eventually he gave in and removed his boots. His toes sank into the soft, yet cold earth, hopefully improving his pace. It gave him some measure of mental comfort to be free of his boots, but in reality, it did not help much. His stride slowed and each step seemed to tire himself further. His throat throbbed terribly, aching for any sort of liquid to parch it. He'd prefer sake, but even water would do. He wished he could relieve (original is relive but maybe you meant relieve? feel free to change) this temporary pain fast from his fiery outburst. Regret swept through him, clawing harsh and strong down his spine. The unfamiliar emotion made him frown and shiver.

What was wrong with him?

There was no reason to feel guilt or regret, but they refused to vanish. The sentiment bubbled deep inside his gut no matter how he tried to squash the emotion. Madara felt strangely alone for the first time in years. A nauseated feeling rose in chest, his self-enforced loneliness and stress weighing him down more than his current fatigue. He felt strangely human, and he did not wish to be. He was a god compared to these mere mortal men that walked with him, a powerful deity that deigned to share the same earth. There was no reason to experience such a disgusting humiliation. His self-loathing was growing toxic, but maybe it was just his mind overreacting to the simplest of concepts. Perhaps he was truly is in need for a deep talk with his brother. A long, hopefully restful, slumber awaited after. He has been self-negligent recently, and he hoped it would be only temporary.

For now, he struggled down the path. The ankle deep mud did its best to drown him as he crossed the field to his brother's home. The rain pooled cold on his bare skin, goosebumps raising in protest. His hair matted into an unholy mess on the top of his head. Madara quivered ever so slightly, a sniffle coming in hard. Spitting fire from his sudden flare up was hard enough to recover from; the frigid air did not do him any favors at this point. He knew he was merely physically exhausted and not chakra exhausted, which was a much better alternative. Physical exhaustion was an simple problem to pinpoint. Rest. The Uchiha leader required rest that he refused to give himself. It was his fault. 

The further out he was in the field, the more he dampened his chakra. It was so he couldn't be easily detected, as he feared he would be picked off from an obvious show of weakness. He drew close to the home, gaze drawn to the soft grey smoke curling up into the weeping sky. Shivers ran down his spine for a second time, Madara unable to stop his body from anticipating the warmth that would soon envelope him. Madara paused in his trek, arms crossed against his midsection as he stared at the wooden door. At that moment, a brief thought flitted through his mind: that perhaps coming directly to his brother's home was a bad idea. He was here, and there was obvious movement within the home itself. Chewing on his bottom lip, the man took one more step to close the space between the house's cozy entrance and himself. He inhaled deeply, taking one more pause.

He exhaled in a rush, pressing his fist to the heavy entrance-way before giving it a firm knock. All movement within the home ceased, audible footsteps changing course as they neared the doorway. The door opened in halting inches to reveal Izuna. He stood mute, staring blankly at a drenched Madara. His eyebrows knitted together firmly once he recovered, confused to why his brother, of all people, was paying him a visit. It was an unusual occurence for him to show up, especially in the middle of the night. But, despite his surprise, the younger moved out of the older's way so that he was no longer in the rain. Izuna walked off to gather a few towels and some fresh clothing.

"Quite interesting you came here so late, Madara," he murmured, handing over the towels first, "Are you doing alright?" The older did not speak, laying down one of the towels so that he did not track mud into the house. Izuna took the hint, silently walking away towards the kitchen and the drink that waited for him there. He paused, his gaze switching from the cup and towards the front door in response to his brother's angry obscenities.

"Those dirty, conniving, worthless Senju," there were another few strings of obscene yet colorful words spewing from Madara's mouth once again before he continued, "I cannot believe I have allowed myself to stoop as low as those spineless creatures!"

His hands began to twitch, as if wanting to sign once more for a devastating jutsu. Izuna was quick to rush to the enraged man, grabbing his twitching hands before anything dangerous could happen. Licking his lips, the younger lowered his brother's hands so that they rested at his side before gradually releasing them. He knew there was no reason to burn down his own home out of previous interactions. There was a mutual feeling of hatred for the other clan, but at this moment it was too late. There was a time and a place to become angry over past issues.

Without a sound, Izuna retreated, pressing his back against the wall. He watched Madara with a mixture of concern and tiredness. He noticed that there were heavy, dark circles under familiar onyx eyes. His posture was rigid and shaking as he made several poor attempts to calm down. The younger Uchiha could tell that Madara was exhausted and had quite the mentally exhausting day. For the first time in an extremely long time, he could see the exhaustion that the older tried so hard to cover up from the world. No more words were exchanged as Izuna walked back to the stove to finish two cups of tea. Perhaps that would calm the situation.

Madara closed his eyes, drawing a ragged breath in as he watched his brother shuffle out of the room. He sat down on the floor, taking one of the towels and wiping off the caked-on mud that had began to dry. Reassuring his younger sibling was not on his mind. Rather, he would simply take out his frustrations verbally. Animosity radiated from the man as he roughly cleaned grime from his legs; to the point of reddening his skin from the force. The silence grew painfully thick, the realizaton that his visit was in vain overtaking Madara. A shame, really. There was a strong sense of wanting to escape the situation, to leave this house and continue walking in the rain. Walk and walk until his legs gave out from fatigue and his chakra running dry from destroying the land out of sheer fury.

He felt... too human. A strong sense of anxiety and nervousness came over him. His chest felt constricted, heart thrashing in his ears loudly. Dread hung heavy on his shoulders, clamping him down on the floor and refusing to let him stand back up. He could barely hear the sound of footsteps over his pounding heart, forcing Madara to move his stiffened arms in an attempt to cleanse himself of mud. He had to remove his clothing so he was no longer freezing. The footsteps paused, Izuna coming to crouch in front of his older brother.

"Are you positive that you are alright, older brother," came the soft words. He never was loud and harsh towards Madara; many considered him to be Madara's exact opposite. "You look rather ill... Here, let me help. I will draw a bath for you after you get out of these clothing..." With that, he set the cups down and began to help strip the other.

The older Uchiha was not keen on the idea, wanting to move away from the younger's touch despite feeling as if several heavy anvils were gluing him to the floor. The act was futile at best, closed off to his own brother as he was just that stubborn. He refused to let Izuna help him, not wanting to look weak and submissive to his caring brother. When he was reluctantly helped to his feet, Madara narrowed his eyes and took several steps away from Izuna's touch. A sour, grouchy look painted his face. He gathered the set of clothing his brother offered to him, taking sluggish steps towards the restroom. He teetered from side to side with tiredness.

His chest throbbed painfully, face drained of any color by the time he made it to the restroom. Finally, he could take a much needed and hopefully steaming bath. Madara closed the door, indicating to the other that he wished to be alone. He stood there for a while, before resting his hands on the side of the tub and staring at the wall. His body swayed dangerously, forcing him to resist the urge to sit down. He tried his damnedest to not fall over onto his buttocks as he removed his clothing. With some struggling, he managed to get into the bathtub with a quiet hum of content. The warmth was comforting, soothing his tired and angered soul. For the first time since devising his plan to murder his childhood friend, he felt comforted and relaxed. His aching muscles no longer retained their rigidness, relaxing almost instantly as the warm water made contact.

Madara took his time soaking, eventually moving down so that the water was just to his nose. Soon, he was gulping down a couple of deep breaths before submerging himself in the warmth. Madara kept his eyes opened, watching the air bubbles coming from his nose whenever he exhaled. Calmness came back, time feeling as though it was stagnating with each bubble that drifted to the surface. For a single moment, he felt that sense of oneness most took lifetimes to find. No longer did he have the urge to scream and fight with anyone. He knew that he wouldn't be this serene as soon as thoughts of Hashirama surfaced, but he would not take the moment for granted. It was soothing. His creaking bones were in need of this unperturbed moment.

He resurfaced reluctantly, coming for air only after his lungs began to scream in earnest. Madara breathed harshly, tilting his head up towards the ceiling with closed eyes. The water lost its warmth, causing his shivering to come back in full-force. He did not want to leave the water and decided to submerge himself for one more minute to ponder over his thoughts. 

With another breath, he sunk back down and made sure that he was laying flat on the bottom of the bath. His feet stuck out and his toes latched onto the lip of the tub. His hands gripped the sides, knuckles going white from the pressure running through them. He had been quite content for the first couple of seconds before his head had started to throb with the type of gloomy thinking he prone to doing. His mind was not sitting well with the idea of his body submerged in the frigid liquid once more. It worked itself into a frenzy, deciding to throw a tantrum instead of the tranquil thoughts he demanded. All he could manage to think was how much animosity for the Senju he held within himself. His teeth gritted as his eyes squeezed themselves tight; he hated himself for how easy it was for him to overthink about this pathetic love interest that he yearned for.

Human feelings were seeping back, clawing and ripping their nasty claws into his mangled body. He felt unsafe, wanting to run away from the upcoming anxiety that was forcing its cruel way up. His gullet heaved as he began to chok, pushing himself into the air. Water sloshed over the sides and onto the floor. His breath sounded in ragged gasps, pieces of the bathtub nearly shattering from his tight grasp. There was no way that he would allow himself to stoop low enough to break his relaxation. His throat was throbbing already with the harsh heat of fire. His heart and chest cavity burned horribly as he swallowed flames, doing his best to calm down and draw in measured breaths.

At this moment, his feelings were too real. He no longer felt that powerful urge for yearning touch and love. Romance that he knew that he would never receive, he should never seek. He felt sorrow for his current state, unable to get the man that he wanted to be in a relationship with. This felt too life-like, and he needed a release. He needed to exterminate the cause of his frustration. Madara obsessed over and over. If he could not obtain this man and be in a stable relationship, what was the point of harboring this toxic jealousy? Was he only allowed to watch his love from afar and be content with the rage and pain as another stole him from Madara? Especially Mito, who he felt stole Hashirama from his grasp. The concept of that dreadful Uzumaki snatching what was his first made his blood boil with a bitter rage.

Madara hung his head low, chewing on his lower lip hard until it bled. Moments like this was when he wished that he was more vocal with who he was interested in having romantic relationships with. He pitied himself, trying to inflate his fragile ego once more. He knew he was better than this. He knew that he was the best damn shinobi on earth, leading the most powerful clan in existence. He was better than this pitiful man that sat in the bathtub, shaking with anger and sadness.

Yet here he was, contemplating if he should go right now to assassinate Hashirama and deal with the fallout if he was caught. He began to smile once more at the thought, his tensed body sinking back down so that he floated in the water. An empty gaze filled with ambition stared at the ceiling. Perhaps he could just dream for now, knowing that he needs to finalize and rework all the kinks in his plan. He did not want to consult Izuna, unable to show weakness or to expose how many faults were in his plan. War was required if he wanted to upset the government for the coup d'état. There was to be no mistakes, and any plans with just a single flaw would be thrown out. He must be quick, efficient, and strong.

He was risking his own life, not just to destroy a village that he wanted to make on his own... but to empower himself and cleanse his mind of mere mortal feelings. Dissatisfaction was not allowed to show its revolting claws. It was not allowed to be displayed, as it was a sign of being weak. Madara Uchiha was not frail. He would never allow himself the sort of luxury mortals loved to wallow in. He needed to reign himself back into the dominant force that he projected at all times. The need for human emotion was an utmost hindrance to his growth; now he desired to be as emotionless as possible for this to work.

The knock came quietly, the older brother barely noticing the sound. There was a brief pause before the sound was repeated, this time with a bit more strength. He sighed, taking his time to exit the bath and haphazardly wrap a towel around his waist. Wet feet padding towards the door, Madara poked his head through rather close to his brother's face. Eyebrows creased together tightly, expression showing no interest in what the younger would speak about.

"May I help you?" came the gruff words, eyes narrowed. There was no ounce of happiness as he continued to speak, "I assumed that you understood that I did not wished to be bothered, Izuna. What is the matter? Speak up, quick! I rather not be bothered for this long!"

His brother looked at him straight in the eyes, carefully scrutinizing every reaction. Izuna was used to being told that the other wanted his alone time, and he had always done his best to respect that. But the young Uchiha would rather not be the victim of a barrage of nasty comments. With a shrug, he took a step back so he was no directly in the others face. 

"Your chakra spiked," Madara rolled his eyes. He never noticed, nor cared. Izuna stepped to the side to allow his brother to have his space, "I rather you not set my home ablaze once again, big brother. I would prefer if you calmed down. Now, tea is ready. Let us have a chat, it has been a while."

Madara let out a huff, turning around and letting the towel that barely him slip off his hips. His brother rolled his eyes, not appreciating the lack of respect that the other was returning; albeit he did not speak about his discontent, not wanting to fight over such petty matters. Madara dressed himself, once again chewing on his lip. The taste of blood was intoxicating, causing him to lap it up almost greedily. His flighty mind attached itself firmly to Hashirama, clinging desperately in search of any torment once more. His eyes clouded with sorrow for a moment before he turned around once he was fully dressed, his dominant composure reassurting itself. Madara gave himself a good whack on the side of the head to keep his future self in line. He walked towards the small kitchen, leaning against the door frame with arms casually crossed.

"I came here to escape the rain, perhaps to have a chat about my plans I have spoken to you about briefly," Madara muttered, eyes flitting to the side to avoid eye contact. "I desire help. I assume this the correct usage of the word."

Izuna covered his mouth as his lips pulled into a cheeky smile, watching the older turn an extremely bright red. Never in his adult life had he heard Madara ask for help. Izuna understood that his brother would prefer to do the work for himself. Gesturing for the other to continue, Izuna sat at the table with a cup of tea while he listened. The elder clenched his jaw, sitting down across from the other before he spoke.

"I have spent countless hours perfecting my jutsus. Tedious, handcrafted plans that I have made!" He spoke through gritted teeth, shaking with unfathomable rage once more. "I do not comprehend why I cannot release my mind free of Hashirama." An audible voice-crack sent his cheeks heating up and flaring again.

Izuna knew better than to laugh at the misfortune, not wanting to be at the receiving end of physical assault. He knew full well that Madara could kill him on spot. Taking a sip, he analyzed the older with half-lidded eyes. Carefully, he leaned back with the cup still in his hands in a rather dainty manner before smirking. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he attempted to deliberately lighten the conversation.

"Have you slept recently? You have spoken on numerous occasions about your plan to murder Hashirama," Izuna started after taking another sip. He set the cup down, clasping his hands together with a minute smile on his face. Madara cooled off a bit, seeing a bit of their mother in his younger brother. He threw his angered gaze to the floor. "Perhaps to calm yourself, you need to help yourself first. Find a new outlet to release your anger."

Izuna moved closer, engulfing rough and quivering hands in his own. He knew that this would calm down Madara, even if just a little. It was the same gesture that their mother had done when they were small children. Normally it would ground Madara whenever he became enraged, but this time it did nothing but annoy. The elder Uchiha's dark eyes glanced up a couple of times, his blush returning with vengeance.

"I... I... I would rather complete..." he stammered, ripping his hands free. He gave a light cough, a smug smirk forming on his face. "I would rather complete my goals! You of all people should know this well, little brother! We both have the same ideology-" 

"I care about your well being-" Izuna started, getting cut off by the older. He frowned, watching Madara turn so that he was fully facing him.

"Do not speak when I am speaking, little brother," He scorned, bitter. "As I said, I rather accomplish my goals. I do not wish to further my pain by seeing Hashirama with that... That horrible wretch of a person. A thing! Something that has taken what is mine." The leader went silent, shoulders slumping ever-so-slightly. His onyx eyes moved towards the window, matching the moon's bashful gaze from behind the grey stormfront. He drew in a deep breath, knowing that there was no possible way to do this easily. He sat on his knees, still gazing out the window.

A sudden flourish of power coursed through his veins, "I have crafted a plan before I went to dinner with the Senjus. The exact times of when Hashirama would be presented alone in his home would be difficult to track, therefore I will be needing to get a feel for the schedule. I should pay him a visit before the next rainfall..." He said, standing to look down at his brother. Izuna returned the gaze.

"I will be leaving now, I rather not speak further of this. I will return by next dawn." With that, he abruptly turned towards the front of the house. He left without a single look behind. He had a mission, and refused to be talked at instead of listened to. Relaxation had held no meaning since his revenge began. He had a feeling he would not be told the ideas he most wanted to hear. It was bothersome but at the same time out of his control.

The rain had drizzled itself out, leaving muddy ground behind. A shy moon peeked through dark, ominous clouds. The humidity was thick, causing his once wet hair to frizz and immediately become wild. The Uchiha male wandered around town for quite some time, avoiding large groups of people as best he could. At the same time some part of him did not mind as he knew that they would step far away from his path. It felt invigorating, for these civilians to cow away upon meeting his stern gaze. It spiked his ego, making his chest puff out and shoulders straighten back. He stomped forward with a dominating march, only for it to come to a screeching halt when he bumped into someone. Madara snarled when his rhythm was ruined, eyes narrowing before realizing who the person was. His heart fluttered when he saw familiar, tanned skin.

"Madara!" Came the exuberant tone, a hand coming down to clap onto the shorter's shoulder. "Fancy meeting you here! I was just about to walk to your home to see if you were there. You left rather abruptly last night, I assumed you had some important issues until Tobirama and I have left the shop..."

The Uchiha grimaced, remembering his little outburst. Hashirama was quick to pick this up, tightening his grip. "Do not worry! It is fine. Now that we are in each other's company, let us talk at my home. We shall talk further there!"

Without another word, the Senju grabbed Madara by the wrist. He led Madara gleefully through the crowd, heading in the opposite direction. Madara, at this point, had no other choice, letting himself be dragged to follow the other. He wanted to go home and plot the Senju's demise, not hang out at his home and sit there with an underlying feeling of hatred. However, a sliver of hope came to his mind amid all the negativity. Maybe this would finally be the time that Hashirama would succumb to his own hands.

It was difficult to hide the dark smile creeping across his face. His flagging confidence began to spike at the thought of vengeance.


	3. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> breaking boys is my passion
> 
> thanks for reading :)

A one sided conversation for the majority of the walk to the Senju's home went ignored. The Uchiha payed more attention to the dirt ground that they were walking on than to the man that was walking to his right, arms crossed against his chest tightly to show that he was closed off. His chest felt constricted with anxiety, heart throbbing from a mixture of emotions. He could not pinpoint how he was feeling, as his cheeks were flaring from being so close to Hashirama yet his gritting teeth with a bubbling anger. There was this overwhelming urge to snatch the other by the wrist and storm off, slamming him against a wall before violently beating his face. The familiar iron taste of blood graced his mind, letting out a small hum of approval.

The man scowled as he noticed fingers snapping in his face, nostrils flaring as eyes flittered towards the offending person. There was that damned  _smile_ that he grew to know, heart hammering loudly in his ears as he felt nothing but adoration for someone that he could not have. That smile only seemed to beam brighter once their eye contact was matched once more, the Uchiha catching himself with a slight gasp before turning his head away quickly to break the gaze. To Madara, the smile seemed comforting and those deep, emotional eyes were warm and inviting. For this brief moment, those human emotions the Uchiha leader badly wanted to squash came back with rage. All he could think of was pressing his lips to the other's with feverish raw emotion.

Dampening these blossoming feelings was not easy, his cheeks only reddening further when he felt their hands just brush against each other once they turned the corner. He cursed himself mentally for stooping this low once again, his hands starting to twitch and stiffen at the fingers. The feeling of the worn hand lingered in his mind uncomfortably, only causing his awkwardness to spike much more.

It took several more steps for the Senju to realize Madara's flustered look, pausing in the middle of the road. This caused the shorter to bump once more into the man, standing still against the warm body. He could feel the other's breath, shivering ever so slightly as he once again cursed himself for being so idiotic with his own feelings. Onyx eyes slowly moved to meet Hashirama's, attempting to cover his feelings with a nasty snarl.

"Yes?" He took a step backwards, looking to the side to attempt to cover his burning face. Madara took one more glance at the other, "What is it? Speak, Hashirama. I do not wish to wait for a simple answer."

The man in statement clasped a hand onto his shoulder, gripping tightly in a comforting manner. He was not very good at picking up on minute emotions, especially with how closed off the other seemed. Then again, Madara was a rather reserved individual, especially when comparing to the boisterous Senju that was never short of exclaiming something outlandish. Hashirama finally noticed that the other was rather red in the face, head cocking to the side with a child-like curiosity.

"Oh, nothing, Madara-San. But if it is not peculiar of me to ask, but are you feeling alright? Your face is flushed," out of kindness and a bit of concern, he rested a warm hand on the others forehead to check if he was falling ill. This caused Madara to narrow his eyes, slapping his hand away. Hashirama looked rather shocked and a bit offended, recoiling his hand and held it close to his chest.

"I am in peak performance!" Came the strong reply that came from deep from his chest. There was an ego that was on the line, and the Uchiha was flustered enough that it was crumbling beneath his own words, "I do not feel unwell, thank you. I do not wished to be touched as well, please keep your distance from me Hashirama."

There was a brief moment of awkwardness, silence thick and very uncomfortable between the two. The friendly male had a firm frown on his face, licking his lips before biting them as he let out a sound of discontent. Shoulders slacked ever so slightly, looking like a kicked puppy as he sulked quietly.

"I am sorry... I only wished to help," he murmured, puffing a cheek out with slight frustration. His mood lifted rather quick, finding it useless to succumb to negative thoughts. The Hokage turned to face the other fully, moving Madara so that he was doing the same. One hand was clasped onto both shoulders, his usual sunshine smile plastered onto his face.

"Let us stop being so mopey. Just because it is dark this night, does not mean we should have a dark, brooding aura as well! Let us be merry, Madara-San," at the sound of his name, the man glowered but did not move away. His emotions were getting the best of him once again, heart pounding harshly. A nervous swear started to bead down the side of his pale face.

There was no snarky or negative reply from Madara, simply taking the others hands off of his shoulder and turned forward before stating _Let us continue our walk_ before moving forward. 

He wished to preserve what ego that he had left, not wanting to ruin his image over some flighty feelings for a man that he knew was not going to be his. And it burned in his stomach and throat at the thought of Mito Uzumaki once more, warmth from the pit of his stomach boiling up as a fiery rage began to simmer again. Jealous, burning, horrible rage fueled the Uchiha as he walked quicker, managing to stop just for a second to snatch Hashirama by his wrist before continuing. He nearly fell forward as the other had stopped in his track, whipping his head to give a nasty leer at the smiling man. It took him a second to realize that he went int the direction of the Hokage's home, internally cussing at himself for being so stupid to go in the direction of the other's home.

The only plus that he could think of was that he could not feel the Uzumaki's chakra but another rather powerful aura within the home. And it miffed the man off when he had an inkling of feeling of who it may exactly be. He wanted to be alone with the older Senju, not wanting anything to do with the younger. There was a time and a place for idiotic behavior, and now was not the time. Not only was his ego trying to regain its strength, but he rather continue his waning plan that stuck in his mind. It felt as if it was screaming loudly, calling over those romantic feelings that wanted to yell back at the negativity that was forming. A painful headache was forming, and he had no idea what to do with himself. Perhaps the only thing to do was to quickly escape, no longer wanting to deal with the man that was sliding up next to him to open the door.

No longer did he wish to pay any attention as he was dragged into the warm home, the smell of a fire going in the living room. There was a loud greeting coming from the kitchen, a familiar white haired man showing his face around the threshold before red eyes darkened and a nasty scowl formed on his face.

Oh how Tobirama _loathed_ the Uchiha that was in his household, in his home. On his property, something that he told his brother time after time that he did not want anyone from that clan to come over and step inside their home. It was the one place that they could be away from Uchiha's and he wanted to keep it as such. Tobirama huffed angrily, arms crossed defensively and chakra surging powerfully with malicious intent, wanting to get the point that Madara was not welcomed in this household. This caused the Uchiha to step forward, past the cautioning arm of Hashirama, to take an offensive stance at the threat. His eyes formed into the Sharingan rather quickly. Before he could impulsively attack the awaiting man, his face was quick to meet the dirty floor before the genkan, growling softly as he glared up at the tanned shinobi. His fuse was dangerously close to being at the end, and his anger was being held back for the sake of the other. There was not much more that he could withstand before he blew up once more.

Madara sat up, cracking his neck and fingers to attempt to calm his fury. He was in the Senju's home, and for now he was their guest. There was no reason to be this impulsive towards Tobirama, however he could not help but have a strong desire to kill the man instead of the one that was standing between them. Anger directed towards the white haired man as he stood, allowing thick locks to drape over his dark eyes to hide his emotions. He did not want to back down, he felt as if he must gain the upper hand despite being the one that was not in favor.

The floor began to crack and splinter, tiny roots from trees showing themselves between the wooden boards as they were poised and ready to restrain the Uchiha. Hashirama's eyes were narrow with caution, head tilted to the side as he stared emotionless at his friend. All three men knew that they cared for their respected brothers, no matter how much in trouble they have gotten themselves snared with. The Senju brothers may get into petty arguments, but deep down they did care about each other immensely and always had each others back if one was in trouble.

They could stand there in a defensive stance all night, however, that was not what the Hokage was after at this late hour. For now, he slowly moved his hands from a seal and watched as the tiny tree roots retreated back into the ground. He grimaced as he realized that he would have to fix that later, letting out a chuckle to soften the predicament.

"Madara-San," he chirped, a smile plastered on his face. It was rather unsettling as he knelt down and lowered his voice, dangerously close to the other's ear, "Forgive him. He is a bit... Picky with who walks through the front door. I rather you two not have any issues. Please." Hashirama stood and straightened himself out, returning to his carefree attitude as he was once before.

He removed his shoes, placing them to the side so that no one would trip. He reached his hand out to aid the other, regaining his smile once more, "Care for some tea? Start fresh and new as well! There is-"

It became apparent that their guest did not want to listen to the blathering man, taking his time as he stood up and brushed off the dirt that was on his clothing. There was a sense of fatigue and extinguished anger, tired eyes flickering between the siblings. There was an obvious tense air among the three, attempting to look past it before he himself got thrown to the floor again. That was embarrassing enough, his already fractured ego not allowing himself to be shown as such weakness any longer.

He psyched himself up, fixing his long mane so that it was no longer hiding his eyes and stood with his chest out a bit. Madara turned towards the older Senju sibling, faking a small smile.

"Yes, please. I am sorry as well for not paying attention to your words," there was a snort from Tobirama, who knew that the man speaking was lying through his teeth. Madara was  never truly sorry and only said it to give a false feeling of submission, "And yes. Let us talk, preferably without your brother looming over us."

Tobirama did not look very content when the other proposed that he was not allowed in the same room as his older brother, sensing that there was something wrong within who he considered his mortal enemy's bones. Red eyes peeking his brother, curtly nodding his head when he got the idea to not be in the same room. He had to trust his brother, knowing that his brother was able to take care of himself if something was to go wrong. That is, if Madara was able to do anything horrific to the Hokage. Tobirama knew that his brother was capable of and he trusted that his elder brother was able to protect himself.

With that, he made a face of discontent once more before turning around and walked into the kitchen. Hashirama watched as the younger left them, turning to his friend with the same warming smile that melted the usually enraged man. Madara's face screwed up into a face of revulsion as he removed his dirty boots, stepping beyond the genkan and into a rather cozy living room.

He took a gander about, noticing the small wooden details that was definitely the work of Hashirama. The roof was held up by large deep chocolate wooden pillars, where beautiful composite order details on the very top rested. The floor was a beautifully polished rich brown wood of some sort. There was little flashiness, including the simple fireplace that was lit in the corner of the room. The warming light was calling his name quietly, urging him to sit in front of the light. There was a moment where he felt himself wander towards the light, wanting to succumb to his thoughts. The Uchiha paused, biting his lower lip and shaking his head; now was not the time to start to act weird around the Senju siblings, as he did not want to hear any sass coming from either one of them over his interests. He felt a familiar tight grip on his wrist, having to look like his heart was not hammering crazily in his chest as the Hokage guided him.

They walked down the hall together without speaking a word to one another, keeping their gaze away from the other. Occasionally, their hands would brush together and despite the painful awkwardness, there was little that Hashirama did to cease the embarrassing touching. It did get to the Uchiha, who was trying to avoid any eye contact and tried to maintain his shrinking ego. Feelings were painfully split. On one side, it was blossoming painfully, making him feel awkward and human; these were things that he regretted ever allowing to become strong, as it was becoming increasingly impossible to hide that he fancied the man that was to his side. Opposite feelings were showing its ugly head, its claws scraping down his back until he physically shivered. The feeling of wanting to kill his childhood friend was becoming difficult to want to complete, despite his conscience screaming and raving that it was for the best. To get rid of the jealousy was to get rid of the person that was root cause. He knew that it was near impossible for him to have this married man, but what was the point of constantly being jealous?

Madara let out a sigh, ignoring the Senju's glance as he stared at the windows as they passed them. He decided to keep himself busy, looking around and taking in the handmade home. Every nook and cranny held something that looked hand crafted, rather beautiful oil paintings were lined on the the walls and bookshelves that were filled to the brim with old textbooks. Candles were lit, their glow soft and just illuminating the hallway. Madara was thankful for the limited lighting, as his face burned horribly with a blush that got worse each time he touched Hashirama's warm body.

There was a sense of comfort, almost wanting to lean into the warmth and kiss him then and there. Or kill him, as his mind could not make itself up.

With this, he wished to slap himself in the face, to scream and to produce fireballs full of vex and hatred. Anything to release this pent up negative energy. He wished to get rid of the emotions, the feeling of being human was going to kill him slowly. He wished to kill these people's old god without emotions playing such a harsh play. It was not long until he realized that a deicide was something that he yearned to calm his aggression. That he knew was the only good for the progressing of the village. At the same time, he felt as if he was doubtful with his own plan. This feeling of not having his plans already in place and ready to initiate was getting to the point of obnoxiousness, especially as he stood right next to the man. The plans were far from perfection, and Madara contemplated whether if he should wait or allow his impulsive nature to swallow him hole.

A sentiment of disgust washed over him, hands twitching with disgust with himself for being so poor in not only judgment but also containing his emotions. Another headache came over, stabbing him in between the eyes and pissing him off further. His eyes flashed red briefly, only catching himself and attempting to recompose himself so that the other did not notice his anger. There was a brief moment where Hashirama looked rather confused at the Uchiha, stopping occasionally to peer at the other with concern before giving a shrug and continued to walk towards the secluded office.

* * *

The two stood in front of a heavy wooden door at the end of the long corridor, to which had no lock but a seal on where the handle would be located. Hashirama quirked an eyebrow up at the other before placing a hand on the seal, the door opening with a rather loud ominous creak. The taller always enjoyed this trick, loving the curious reactions that he would receive when the door opened. Though with Madara, there was nothing but a rather harsh huff that came from him and it simply led the Senju to frown. Quietly, he walked into the cold room and towards the fireplace.

Madara narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to stand in the doorway to keep himself away. Now was not the time to mess up and allow himself to be anymore than uninterested. He quirked an eyebrow as the Hokage grabbed a tinderbox from the shelf, attempting to make sparks onto the wood for a fire. There was little hope, the man was obviously flustered and briefly he glanced back at his friend for help as he knew that he was capable of starting a fire.

A harsh string of grumbled words spilled from his lips, pushing himself off the threshold and almost stomped his way towards the window to open it then the fireplace. He knelt down next to Hashirama as he took off his glove, his knee just touching the other ever so slightly, before leaning forward so that his hand was in the pit itself. It did not take long until there was smoke wafting off of the wood, sparks coming alive from his fingertips. Quickly, he breathed onto the small flame so that it did not immediately die. Smoke got into his nose causing him to sneeze, eyes watering just slightly as smoke touched them. He would have honestly kept his head in the smoke, finding his tensed muscled relaxing once again at the burning wood, if it was not for Hashirama sitting next to him.

Silently, he sat on his buttocks with his back to the flames after moving slowly to close the door, eyes half lidded and thick bangs in front of his face. The two sat in silence for a while, neither making a sound nor eye contact during the duration. There as a small tutting sound from the back of the Senju's throat, causing Madara to furrow his brows tightly together.

"It has been a while," came the soft murmur, rumbling deep within his chest. There was a hint of seriousness in his tone, "I am grateful that we can finally talk. Albeit, on the floor in my office, however, it is a start. I am terribly sorry about Tobirama, by the way. He dislikes when anyone that is not someone that he trusts deeply that comes into this home," there was a brief pause, "The night that you left, I realized that there were smoldering trees outside the restaurant that we were at. It has been clearing, thankfully. However, I am assuming it was you, Madara-San."

Another thick, awkward silence as he was called out about when he set the forest ablaze. There was no response for quite some time, his head turned so that in the corner of his gaze he could watch the flames flicker and the wood crack softly. Tense muscles relaxed slowly, his posture slacking slightly, and he looked in a rather peaceful state. He chewed on his lower lip, eyes flickering towards Hashirama briefly before returning his gaze.

"It has been quite a few months," was his throaty, vague response. Madara fully turned so that he was facing the other, his hair in front of his face so that it was shielding his eyes once more, "I rather not speak of such, as it has no inkling of you. It is my fault, yes, but I rather we not speak of this further."

He was obviously lying through his teeth once more, but Hashirama decided not to hang too much onto the words. Once more the two lapsed into a difficult silence. Hashirama stood from the floor, brushing the dirt off of himself as he walked towards his desk. The chair's rather loud squeak once it was sat upon broke the quietude, Madara's gaze turning towards the offending sound and scowled, giving a noise of discontent before he moved so that he was fully facing the fire. At this point, he wished that he had his mind in order to allow himself to complete these plans. His impulsiveness was getting the best of  him, the hands that he stared at were quivering with a mixture of emotions that he could not understand. He felt confusion yet an anger that he could not understand.

Now was not the time to mess up and allow his emotions to better him. With speed and adrenaline that was induced by powerful impulsive motives, Madara stood with his fingers just grazing the spare kunai that he kept on a holster. Hashirama barely noticed as the other quickly moved so that he was standing behind him, his head suddenly jerking backwards so that his throat was vulnerable. Dark brown eyes met brilliant red, before blinking and trying to look away so that he did not fall for any genjutsu that the Uchiha may have up his sleeve. After the immediate shock, he tried defend himself, before feeling a pair of rough lips smash against his. Teeth collided rather painfully, tasting iron as his low was chomped down on. Before he knew it, Hashirama was shoved onto the floor,the chair landing on him and his head harshly hitting the wall. He was in complete shock as he stared up at the other with wide eyes.

He looked away, face a bright red color out of embarrassment. He felt weak for not taking the kunai and slitting the others throat when he kissed him, fists clenching tightly as he sauntered towards Hashirama. He was quick to shove him onto his back, sitting on his chest and leaned forward dangerously close to his face again. The weapon's sharp tip was placed against tanned skin, moving against the cold metal as the Hokage visibly swallowed. The man was paralyzed on the floor, only able to watch the other carefully and feel the cold metal on his throat. Anxiety drained his face of color, shaking violently as he watched Madara lean forward deathly close to his face. He felt the warmth of his breath against his cheek, feeling the skin on his neck split open from the pressure.

Managing to shove him off by violently kicking and thrashing, Hashirama was quick to pin down the Uchiha by sitting on his upper body, wood cracking as tree roots broke through oak flooring. Madara's wrists were bound together, his gaze no longer looking up at the other with hatred but sadness and regret. There was a hefty knock on the door, feeling as if it was going snap in half. Hashirama did not move, staring down at the man.

"I am fine," the Hokage finally said roughly. His voice cracked with sadnes, "Thank you, please leave Tobirama."

There was some pleading, obvious concern, before the elder brother snapped. His head whipped towards the door and hollered _Leave, now!_ He waited to speak, wanting to be alone with the Uchiha that he had under his grasp.

"Why-" he started before he was cut off with a sharp laugh, caramel colored cheeks becoming embarrassingly red fast with frustration.

"None of your damn  _business, Senju,"_ there was obvious hurt in his tone. Hashirama was taken aback, forgetting how emotional the other truly was at times. Slowly he backed down, knowing that fighting was never the option. He simply sat straight, touching the thin line on his neck, seeing droplets of blood on his finger tips.

Madara sheepishly looked away, all emotions fluttering around before resting on sadness. He felt ashamed, ruining not only his only opportunity to murder the man but as well completely blew that he had feelings. _Unreciprocated, dumb, pathetic feelings_ that were going to forever burn into both men's memory. He felt the weight on his chest suffocating, ignoring that Hashirama stood over him. Ignoring the disappointing gaze, feeling those deep brown eyes bore into his skin with uncertainty.

"You should have mentioned this years ago, Madara-San," Hashirama mumbled, crumbling back down with his knees harshly slamming into the floor. The wooden restraints became lax, creeping back through broken wooden panels, "I feel pity."

Something within the Uchiha male snapped, his eyes growing dark with a malicious intent. The statement enraged the man, and he was quick to fling Hashirama's body against the wall aggressively. There was no time wasted as the enraged man grabbed the other by the shoulders so that he was on his back, sitting on his mid. Blood spurting from the Senju's nose as his fist made contact, fury fueling his intense yet sudden hatred that Madara felt. With hasty movement, the shinobi grabbed the kunai that he had used earlier and stabbed the other in the stomach several times. It cut through flesh with ease, blood pooling quickly out of wound as the man sputtered with shock and agony. Shaking hands removed the bloodied knife after the sudden attack, staring between the wide eyed victim and the bloodied weapon.

There was no natural way that he could continue, human emotions swallowing him whole as he stared at the man he could have just murdered. This was not the feeling that he wished that he gained. Instead of being victorious and continuing to feel as if he was a dominating force, he felt nauseated and frightened. His anxiety wanted him to run, to forget that he just impulsively attacked the man over a minute comment. He gripped at his hair, pulling the long locks with anger.

He could hear rapid movement outside the door once more, several harsh knocks on the door with Tobirama calling out for his brother. He sounded enraged, threatening the Uchiha.   
  
"Dirty scoundrel, a pathetic horrific ugly man. What a piece of shit, if I fucking see you harmed my brother I will fucking kill you," was the only thing that Madara managed to understand, his heart beating wildly out of his chest.

Madara could not move, vision blurry with tears he did not realize that dripped onto the pained man. He knew that Hashirama was still alive, feeling short yet ragged breathing against his leg. A loose grip was on his ankle, hands still warm. There was a pool of blood, which spurted out of the room whenever the injured ninja moved ever so slightly, around them and the intoxicating smell permeated the room.

Another violent knock stuck the door, the sound of the door starting to cave in breaking the silence. The Uchiha quickly shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze. He whipped his bloody soaked hands onto his shirt quickly before standing up and staggered towards the door. He barely opened the door before he felt it shove open, catching him off guard and ended up staggering backwards awkwardly. Before the younger Senju could barge in fully, Madara took the opening to slam the door with his body weight so that it closed in his face. There was an exclamation of shock, Tobirama stumbled backwards ungracefully. With rage, he slammed his body into the door once more to try to get into the room.

"You slimy Uchiha!" Tobirama bellowed, ramming his shoulder into the door. There was an audible crack, the door on its last stand, "Allow me in here at once! You disgusting _swine_ , I swear...."

Madara acted on his feet , opening the window and climbed out the window just before the door came crashing down to the floor with a deafening bang. The flustered man lost his footing while running and tripped, head snapping towards the house as he heard a Tobirama roar with anger, cussing the shinobi loudly. Before the enraged man could catch up, Madara fled as fast as he could with his tail between his legs. There was a feeling of being proud that he was at least able to kiss Hashirama, but on the opposite side of the coin his stomach lurched with dread of being caught. He could not figure out which was worse, but all he could do for now was escape the harshness of Tobirama's wrath. All he could do was run like the scared pansy he was.

_Run, Run, Run._

* * *

 

Tobirama collapsed to the ground, quick to place his hands on the gushing wound in his brother's soft midsection to try and stop the bleeding for the meantime. Tears were not present, but he had a mixture of concern and violent anger brewing about in his dark red eyes. The younger sat his brother up and against his own body, knowing his was capable of healing himself if he just had a bit of help. There was a quiet _thank you_ before he pressed his own hand to the bloodied skin. With a wince, he removed blood covered clothing from the wound, grimacing at the stickiness of the blood. He felt the skin sew itself back up slowly. leaving a rather large keloidal scar forming where the wound had sealed itself up. Quietly, he rested his head against his brother's shoulder.

While he was not looking for any comfort, Hashirama kept himself as still as possible. He was weak, face pallor from the loss of blood. His entire form shook, still shocked from what just happened. He could feel Madara's lips on his, the painful clashing of their teeth. His own heart fluttered at the thought of the their lips locking again.

Hashirama shook his head, immediately becoming dizzy afterwards, before sitting up as straight as he cook. He fell back into his brother, who placed a firm yet comforting hand on his brothers lower back with an aggravated sigh. Before the Hokage knew it, he was being lifted up and quickly ran to his bedroom. Brown eyes narrowed slightly, coughing to get Tobirama's attention.

"Please put me down, I am fine," came the raspy words, catching himself once his words were acknoledged. He rested himself against the wall, licking his blood crusted lip, eyes closed before he continued, "Do not chase after Madara, please. I do not want any issues, no more. Now is not the time to think irrationally! Please, sit down. Think about this..."

This did not settle well in his brother's stomach, which lurched and knotted painfully. Tobirama knew that the older was fond of Madara, despite being stabbed by that Uchiha _swine._ And despite their current political differences, this painful mishap was the cream of the crop. The young man's anger was boiling, face  bright with an exuberant amount of emotions. This was one of  those moments that he wished that the Hokage was not someone to choose friendships and peace over something as tragic as this. With force, he grabbed the older's shoulders and brought his body close to him, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

"I do not care, Hashirama," he hissed, chakra spiking. The walls and the floor began to crack, "I do not want that  _pathetic_ Uchiha touching, being near-"

A hand promptly slapped onto his mouth, eyes widening as he felt irritated eyes bore into his skin. Tobirama knew better than to continue pestering the elder. He assumed this was a rare time that Hashirama knew that his friend had messed up greatly, but did not wish to speak of this further. The deed was done, and all he knew he reluctantly could do was to increase his brother's security. He sat down next to Hashirama, leaned forward with his head in his hands. There had to be another way to exterminate that  _dirty_ man from existence. Some cruel, exotic way to remove Madara from this world.

His fists clenched, not recognizing the hand firmly clasping his shoulder, before suddenly standing up and stalked off.

All the younger Senju could think of currently was revenge.


End file.
